


Here We Are

by SilverLynxx



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Niki!feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Now there’s a point,” Clay hums, “Where is Niki anyway?” </i>
</p><p>  <i>James’ expression becomes decidedly more pensive, and he absently brushes the condensation from the neck of his bottle away with his thumb. The sudden change catches the attention of the rest of the drivers, and after a moment James clears his throat.</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFlirtMeister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/gifts).



> Written for theflirtmeister on tumblr :)
> 
> I Included a little pic of Niki that [Nadayoghurt](http://nadayoghurt.tumblr.com/) brought to my attention cause, while I strictly write with film!Niki&James in mind, it just fits so well ;3;

James thinks his living room hadn’t seen this much company since his housewarming two years ago, and yet as he fills another glass with a healthy dose of whisky and passes out a few more bottles of beer, he can’t help his grin at seeing the room so full and energetic.

“Ay, ay! James, come on, where’s my drink!?” Patrick calls over the rabble as a conversation of five or so drivers descends into laughter.

“Well if you got off your arse and walked two feet to the table, you’d have one, Depailler!” James snipes back good-naturedly, but he passes a bottle along the line of drivers until it reaches the Frenchman anyway, laughing when John takes a cheeky sip as it passes him by.

Reclining back into his armchair after completing his hostly duties, he takes a swig from his bottle and tunes in to Jody and Emerson discussing the merits of the new chicane on one of tracks. He’s just about to interject on a particular point made by Jackie when Ronnie cuts in instead.

  
“James, not that I’m not enjoying having us all together like this, but on the phone you said something about Niki?” the Swede seems a bit sheepish at changing the subject, but a pointed glance around highlights the fact that the named driver is the only one not present.

“Now there’s a point,” Clay hums, “Where is Niki anyway?”

James’ expression becomes decidedly more pensive, and he absently brushes the condensation from the neck of his bottle away with his thumb. The sudden change catches the attention of the rest of the drivers, and after a moment James clears his throat.

“He’s in Vienna,” he says, before glances thoughtfully at the clock on the wall, “Or he may be on a plane home,” he amends, turning back to a huddle of confused faces.

“Well if he’s not here, why are we?” Patrick frowns, “That is why you called us, no?”

James takes several gulps of beer and contemplates how angry Niki will be with him for airing his personal affairs to their friends.

“He got call from his grandfather a couple of days ago, some big bank tycoon, sounds a bit of a dick. But whatever he wanted required Niki to fly back to Vienna as soon as he was able to get a flight. He refused to say anything about it and spent the rest of the time looking like a man about to walk to his own execution.” James shrugs a shoulder helplessly.

Despite being obviously captivated by the rare glimpse into the personal life of the unflappable Niki Lauda, the Brit catches a few puzzled side glances where the dots were failing to connect. 

“If all is well, we’re going to get pissed of our faces and have a damn good time. If not, I think Niki will appreciate you being here to support him as we proceed to get pissed off our faces and have a damn good time,” he explains with a wry smile.

His plan is received with murmurs of approval and nodding heads, and James is pleased that they are willing to go along with his half-baked yet well-meant scheme. It was also poignant, in a way, to know that the men sitting in his living room, the men whom they competed so fiercely with each year, were willing to come so far and so soon at the slightest hint that something may have been wrong with Niki.  

“But until then,” James says loudly over the rabble, “How about some more drinks?”

He grins when he is met with an uproar.

-

They fill the room with laughter and chatter and rude jokes for the better part of four hours, heedless of the time as James procures snacks at some point and they’re lost once again in each other’s company, the conversation flowing easily without the tension of the racing season on their shoulders.

 But just as the sky begins to darken and John goes to flick on the lights, he pauses by the window and glances out between the shutters. “James, it’s Niki.”  
  
The room hushes immediately and James is on his feet a moment later, casting a meaningful look at the Irishman. John simply frowns and shakes his head. “Doesn’t look good.”

“Fuck,” James mutters and moves to intercept Niki in the foyer, closing the door to the living room behind him. The front door opens a heartbeat later, and Niki steps in with his head bowed and curls damp from the light rain that had started to fall. The door shuts with a quiet click that seems to echo around them, and Niki just seems to stop, his hand gripping the doorknob with his shoulders hunched defensively.

“Niki?” James says softly, trying to coax some motion back to the man. “Niki.” The second time the Austrian’s head twitches in James’ direction, and he can see his tongue dart out to wet his lips. Niki drops his hand from the doorknob as he turns around, and James steps closer until there’s barely two feet between them.

“What happened?” James askes gently, though not without some effort, because he’s agitated, because Niki’s face is worryingly blank but his eyes are a mess of emotions that James couldn’t hope to untangle and identify, but god is pain not a prominent one. “What happened?” he presses, and Niki’s breath stutters.

“They…” his voice is hoarse like he hasn’t spoken for hours, and he stops to clear his throat. James realises in a rush that, whatever is was, Niki had most likely kept it bottled up since leaving Vienna, and his stoic front was finally cracking.

“They disowned me,” he says in little more than a whisper. It takes James a second, then it hits him like a physical blow to the chest.

“ _What_?”

“They had me fly to Vienna so they could sit me down with the family lawyer, a man I’ve known since I was _child_ , and have me written out of everything; all family assets, money, property, business,” he breaks off with a sharp laugh that is a bitter parody of humour. “They would have had my _name_ if they could have.” His anger peters out as quickly as it had come, and the man’s voice is small by the end of it. He looks at James, and the Brit can’t stop himself before he’s wrapping his arms tight around the shorter man and pulling him into the tightest hug he’s capable of.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Niki, _fuck_ ,” he swears, running his fingers through Niki’s wayward curls and brushing a thumb over the rippled skin of his scarred temple.

“I knew they disapproved of my racing, that I would get no support from them…but I never thought they would actually … _disown_ _me_. I have literally lost my entire family,” he says with a small hollow sound, and James just holds him tighter, because Niki is trembling and he has a feeling that the Austrian has no idea.

With his fingers lightly gripping Niki’s hair, he tilts the younger man’s head back and kisses him, gently, quickly, almost embarrassingly chaste, then he gives him another, and another, until he’s coaxed Niki in to a series of fleeting, distracting kisses. He lets the last one linger, and gently maps out Niki’s mouth with his tongue, relishing the familiar heat and taste and his ridiculous buck teeth which stab into his lip.

“Fuck them,” he mutters.

“I’d rather not,” Niki says, and blinks as if taken by surprise by his own response. James erupts into shocked deep laughter, and kisses Niki again, a deep, devouring, all-consuming kiss.

“Looks like I get to have you all to myself now,” James rumbles, and Niki rolls his eyes and hisses a fierce “Asshole!” to hide the small smile creeping onto his slightly plump lips as he wriggles free of James’ grip. The Brit is smiling broadly and with such affection Niki has to look away, so he’s unprepared when James takes his hand and pulls him towards the living room.

James’ rolls his eyes at the not-so-subtle thunder of feet quickly fleeing from the door, and he can see Niki side-eying him suspiciously as well. James merely gives an innocent smile and opens the door, where, of course, there is a driver on nearly every surface who greet Niki with loud and enthusiastic catcalls.  

“What the fuck are you all doing in my house?”

James has to use the doorframe for support to try and contain his amusement, and Clay gestures indignantly at Niki with his beer. “We were invited. Are you always this much of an asshole to your guests?” he smirks beneath his moustache, and Niki, true to form, flips him off.

“Not that we’re invited around much,” Emmo interjects, with Jackie gleefully adding, “Although we should be, as Hunt seems to collect quite a bit of drink!” Several drivers snicker and Patrick salutes with his own bottle.

Then Ronnie, sat on the couch with a serious, thoughtful expression quietly adds, “We’re basically family, it’s only right to be here, yeah?”  

Loud murmurs of agreement echo around the room and Niki, stunned, swallows thickly.

With a fond smile James claps Niki on the shoulder and prompts him further into the living room. The chatter quickly picks up again, a soft, constant drone as Niki pinches James’ beer, and they both squash onto the armchair that was really only designed for one. They sit and have a moment of silence, encompassed by the warmth and the noise of the room as Niki takes a deep drink from the neck of the bottle, and then looks at James with the same intensity that had first drawn the Brit to him like a moth to a flame.

“Thank you, James,” he says with a quiet sincerity. James smiles, and whilst pressing a kiss just below Niki’s wounded ear, he mutters softly;

“My pleasure, Niki.”


End file.
